


Under the Starry Sky

by shadowfiend



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 04:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowfiend/pseuds/shadowfiend
Summary: Tel'arn has only known one love his entire life. A glimpse of another man in love could change that.





	Under the Starry Sky

The Suramar Beautification Project was a proposal Tel'arn had submitted long before he had risen to the rank of High Botanist. It was a passion project that had guided his work from his youth until now. A glorious vision of a future where his perfect plant-life would overtake the bounds of the city and truly cement Suramar as the crowning jewel of the Highborne.

He loved every minute he spent engaged in his work and he just knew that the plants he worked with felt the same. He could feel them humming beneath his fingers as he nudged each petal into position, guiding them with the subtle traces of magic that gave his plants the ability to grow beyond the means of any mere green-thumbed gardener.

There had been disappointment, of course, when he had first made it clear that he had no interest in pursuing the arcane. Oh, he was powerfully gifted at that, but he had no love for the manipulation of magic for its own sake. There were scores of renown-obsessed magisters who could do it just as well as he and actually found purpose in the archaic theory-crafting and spell-work. To him, though, it all seemed so relentlessly self-absorbed.

Plantlife, though. Plants were glorious in comparison. They were so pure of purpose, filled with the sole guiding need to strive for the sun's radiant attentions. And by that simple determination, they brought beauty wherever they thrived.

Tel'arn loved that about them and that beauty was what he'd wanted to perfect ever since he'd realized how simple the application of magic to a bud could be. Plants responded so effortlessly to his will, seeking only to fulfill their simple purpose. How could he dedicate himself to the arcane when he had these precious beings who needed only his love?

He glanced up at the setting sun. His time was almost up for the day and yet he wanted so much just to linger by their purity of form for just a little longer. Tel'arn caressed the stalk he'd be effortlessly guiding along the trelis that would compliment the sweeping spires of the Astromancer's Rise when a slight movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Suramar was by no means a quiet city, but he had thought the sweeping terrace gardens would be empty at this time of night as usual. There were far too many soirees in this season to distract the nobleborn from the idle pleasures of his work at night. It had been that reason he had intended to work here today and yet, here someone was.

Tel'arn squinted, losing track of his progress and letting the vine curl around his finger slightly. In the dim light, he could make out the form of a sharply dressed highborne. The face, though far away, was familiar enough. He'd met this one before at a gathering at Astravar's extensive estate shortly after he'd taken the position of High Botanist.

The very thought of those parties filled him with a curdled disgust. The nobleborn of Suramar were a suffocating sort with their lives revolving around the idle pleasures their rich society had gifted them. Tel'arn wouldn't have minded so much-- in fact, he had benefited from Suramar's appreciation of beauty immensely with the generous funding that came with his position --, but coming face to face with his "admirers" who had wanted him to attend had opened his eyes.

While he had always known that no one could truly appreciate the full extent of Suramar's blossoms or the subtle grace of a tree grown to a perfect angle, he had at least thought those that wanted to meet him would want to know of his craft, of his thoughts on his work. The second Tel'arn had opened his mouth in conversation at Astravar's estate quickly dispelled him of this notion.

Their eyes had been empty as he'd tried to explain his efforts on the terrace gardens. They had no interest in the progress he'd put into developing an entirely new strain of dusk lily. Their hollow smiles spoke volumes about exactly why he'd been called to join them in that place. These nobleborn hadn't wanted anything more than another powerful name to leisurely drop into their conversations, yet another unique acquaintance to raise their social profiles all the more.

And in their number that night had been this man. Etraeus had always had a reputation for social climbing. His sharply defined features and impeccable fashion sense had left a distinct impression on a number of nobles. Tel'arn could remember too well the hollow laughter that Etraeus had offered to him when he spoke about the gardens. Those cold eyes had been especially remarkable, as if the man hadn't even cared enough to hide his disinterest in his work.

Just thinking about that night, the last little gathering of Suramar's upper class he'd bothered to attend filled him with a stinging antipathy. Here was that man who had so clearly encapsulated everything he had hated about the nobleborn standing in his sacred place of work, disrespecting it with his disinterest.

Tel'arn stilled, watching as Etraeus came to the center of his terrace and hesitated, looking up at the first glitterings of the stars above them. Then, that perfectly styled man wasted little time sprawling out on the grass below, his neatly maintained hair splaying on Tel'arn's grass.

This was unexpected. The glory-hound social climber couldn't possibly be here in this state in his garden. He had to be drunk out of his mind or up to no good. For a moment, Tel'arn felt a certain paranoia that perhaps Etraeus had some sort of sabotage in mind, some curious bit of maneuvering to make his position more secure.

He watched cautiously as Etraeus lifted a hand to the sky and Tel'arn felt the subtle weaving of magic and heard, even at this distance, the sound of Etraeus' voice. Etraeus was murmuring to himself, not even spells, but the names of stars, notes on the constellations. His long, graceful fingers moved with an undeniable elegance as he began to notate the stars above him. In the slight warmth of the summer's night, Tel'arn suddenly realized that the young highborne was in his garden simply stargazing.

Etraeus' perfect face was tight-lipped, attention drawn solely to the marvel of the stars above them. His eyes never wandered from the sheer vastness of the sky.

And in that moment, Tel'arn felt something inexplicable grip his chest, an odd sensation he'd never felt before. There was something beautiful about this straight-laced man and he knew exactly what it was. This was purity of form as well. This Etraeus was just like his perfect little buds, a being that strove only to reflect the radiance of the stars.

Tel'arn bit his lip. He couldn't say anything. He couldn't draw his attention. He couldn't disturb this perfection that had landed on the very ground in front of him. And so he sat and watched, waited as the hours passed, simply admiring this new side to a man he'd thought he'd despised.

**Author's Note:**

> In Suramar, there are trees with stars under their branches. As someone said when I explained this theory to them, "I like your thought process: These trees have stars in them, therefore these guys are totally fucking." 
> 
> Basically, this is something I've been hoping someone else would write, but finally it bothered me so much that I had to write something for this pairing because I can't possibly be the only person who thought this! Right?


End file.
